


Warden-Commander Fluffybuns the Third

by yggsassil



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Animal Abuse, Fluff, M/M, Only hints of it, Technically ADHD is a mental illness? shrug emoji, Vet!Anders, barely edited, references to mental illness, the writer has adhd and therefore Relates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5902414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yggsassil/pseuds/yggsassil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett Hawke adopts a cat and a vet all in one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warden-Commander Fluffybuns the Third

Garrett Hawke had never been much of a cat person. He preferred dogs, in all honesty--pitbulls and mabari, especially. Dogs seen as controversial, or too aggressive. Too burly. But when he glimpsed a shivering, wounded cat on the side of the road on his drive home, he _had_ to stop to help it. It was helpless enough it didn’t bother to fight him--or probably too weak--but it definitely freaked out at the sight of his mabari Potato in the backseat. He cleared off the trash in the passenger side, and laid it down carefully on a stray jacket he was pretty sure had actually belonged to Fenris.

The thing was, he was in the middle of bumfuck nowhere--an area he had to drive through to get to work, but that he paid no real attention to, so he had _no_ idea about the local surroundings. Certainly not any local vets. He briefly checked his smartphone _(not_ while driving, he’d learned that the hard way when Merrill had crashed years ago) and found one within 10 minutes. He’d be late getting home, but he wasn’t sure if the cat was up for going to his place, anyways. He petted the bedraggled, shivering thing the entire way, hoping to soothe it.

The vet waiting area was empty too. It was damn late, so it made sense, and shortly before closing time. There were no emergency vets nearby that he could find (and he couldn’t afford them anyways). The nurse looked up from where she was presumably preparing to get her files together to leave, glancing at him--looking like something the cat dragged in--and then the cat--the actual cat dragged in.

He gave a mental snort at that.

“Can I help you?”

 _‘Of course_ you can help me. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?’ is what he wanted to bite back, but he held his tongue, and his sass. He’d had enough moments of putting his foot in his mouth today.

“I found a cat, by the road. I think it may’ve been hit.”

The nurse immediately sat up. she’d seemed annoyed a moment ago, probably at having to work again so close to closing, but was alert now. “What’s the cat’s name?”

“I don’t know, it’s a stray, it’s--does it have to have a name?”

The nurse frowned. “No, but if it had a name it responded to, it’d help soothe it,” She paused to look at some files. “Most of our vets are out already, but Dr. Andersson is still here. Let me call him up.” She moved to dial a phone, leaving him feeling rather out-of-place. At least the cat wasn't shivering as much. She turned back to him and said, “Dr. Andersson is in room 4,” opening the door remotely.

There were only a few rooms in the hallway. It seemed to be a tiny building, and he sent another prayer to Andraste for his luck. The cat was curled up in the jacket he’d wrapped around it, and seemed less tense than before. It was still shivering, but only barely, which he noticed when he went to unwrap it and put it on the counter. _Maker_ he hoped it didn’t have broken legs or anything.

He had pet insurance--it was actually required with a purebred mabari. But insurance tended to be expensive, and kind of shitty, and he didn’t know how much it would actually cover. Sure, his siblings and his friends would help--Varric would drop just about everything to help--but he didn’t want to ask them for help. Not if he could help it. Which he probably couldn’t.

He waited a few minutes while petting the cat, who was slowly relaxing. It was warming up to him, and getting warmer in general--the cat’s fur was rapidly getting bigger and thicker. It was rather fluffy, actually.

The door on the other side of the room opened. Hawke didn’t bother to look up, still worried about insurance and cats and money and entranced in petting ‘Fluffy.’ “Garrett Hawke?” a voice asked. Garrett grunted at it, decided that wasn’t polite enough, then added ‘yes.’

“Dr. Andersson, I’m here to see your cat?”

“It’s not my cat, I just. Found it on the road.”

“Still, that’s incredibly kind of you.” Andersson said, Hawke still not looking at him. He had a slight accent, one not English, but with an English tinge to it. He wondered where Dr. Andersson was from.

“Not even a cat person. Dogs better,” Hawke mumbled. Andersson seemed to ignore it.

Andersson softly moved Hawke’s hands away from fluffy, instead bringing it closer so he could examine it. Fluffy tensed up immediately, but he began cooing at it so it might relax. Hawke saw Andersson’s hands moving quietly over the cat, squeezing at limbs, at one point getting out a thermometer, which Hawke _immediately_ decided to look away from, instead concentrating himself on how nice Dr. Andersson’s hands were.

“Have you thought of a name?” the vet asked, while he was taking Fluffy’s temperature.

“Fluffy,” hawke immediately responded. He’d intended to go for “it’s not my cat,” but he was already thinking of it as his cat, so why not.

Andersson’s response was filled with amusement. “Creative.” 

Hawke shrugged. “First thing I thought of. He _is_ quite fluffy.”

“She, actually. She’s a maine coon and they tend to be quite big.” Hawke looked up and saw that the thermometer was no longer in Fluffy’s butthole. “Males can reach up to 9 kilograms.”

“Maker, that’s larger than some _dogs!”_ Hawke blurted out and nearly considered facepalming for it. Andersson, however, only laughed.

Andersson picked the cat up out of Hawke’s field of vision, moving to a cat-sized scale. “Maine Coons are one of my favorite breeds, actually. I prefer tabbies, however.”

“Oh? Cat person?”

Andersson laughed again. Maker he had a cute laugh. Probably had a cute smile, too... “Very much. At the moment I only have two: Mr. Wiggums, and Ser Pounce-a-Lot.” 

Hawke finally looked up. “You have cats named _Mr. Wiggums_ and _Ser Pounce-a-Lot?”,_ he said, and then all the breath went out of his body.

Andersson was _stunning._ Hair this lovely shade of blond and eyes almost as pretty as his own--and Garrett was _very_ proud of his eyes. Hawke glanced at Andersson’s nametag and saw that his first name was Anders.

Anders Andersson?

“What kind of moron names their child _Anders Andersson?”_ he blurted again, then facepalmed for real. He needed to get home and take his medicine…

Anders was smirking though, when Garrett actually looked up. “Swedish ones,” he looked back at where Fluffy was patiently curled up on the scale, probably having forgotten she was there. “Although it does sound strange.” He picked up the now-almost-completely-fluffed-up cat (how did it shed water _that fast?)_ and put it back on the counter. “And thank you for the compliment.” He waited a beat to see if Hawke would notice. “You said I have nice eyes.”

Was he flirting? He was definitely flirting. Maker Hawke was flirting with his brand-new Swedish vet. Who was flirting back.

Anders cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “She doesn’t seem to have any broken limbs but she is mildly hypothermic. I’d recommend taking her home and keeping her warm for a few days.”

“Could I leave her tonight and see you tomorrow?” It was only mildly wince-worthy, but Anders didn’t seem to mind his blatant, idiotic flirting. Anders stared, and Garrett was about to regret asking, but Anders eventually nodded. “Should I leave you my number too...?” Anders nodded again. Hawke went to fumble for paper and something to write on, but Anders shook his head (still smiling) and told him to leave it with the nurse at the front door. Garrett took a second to pet Fluffy, who leaned into his touch--good sign--before closing the door. 

That had gone _much_ better than he had expected. Although he still had the cost to deal with.

“10$,” the nurse told him as he scribbled his information down on a contacts list. He paused, surprised by the price, but decided not to question it. 

\--

2 days later, he’d gotten a call to his cell--your pet is healthy and ready to be picked up--and he’d nearly entirely forgotten...mostly. He hadn’t forgotten the vet, at least. Anders was _beautiful._

The vet's office was much more busy when he arrived this time, but the wait wasn’t too long. The new nurse--Isabela, he read on her name tag--smirked at him when she let him through. He only realized after he’d gone through she hadn’t told him what room Anders was in (and _Maker_ why was he already referring to him as ‘Anders’? They didn’t even know each other!).

Anders was already petting Fluffy when he entered, and the cat seemed to be loving it. Now that she wasn’t cold and wet, he could see how Fluffy she actually was. He’d heard maine coons had long fur, but long didn’t even come close.

“As you can see,” Anders said, still petting the cat as he looked up at Hawke, “Fluffybuns is feeling much better. I think she missed you too. She’s scared of the other pets, however, so you may need to be careful with that. She’ll probably sleep near you for a while.”

“Shy?”

“Very.” with the way Fluffybuns was acting, she didn’t _seem_ shy.

Wait. Fluffy _buns?_

“Didn’t i named her ‘Fluffy’?” Hawke said as tactfully as he could. Anders turned a shade of pink.

“I...may have given her the nickname Fluffybuns.” He paused. “Warden-Commander Fluffybuns...the Third.”

Hawke’s jaw dropped. “You named my cat _what?_ The _third?”_

Anders shrugged. “She seems to like it.” Fluffy(buns) batted at him, demanding to be petted again. So she was clingy, too. Clingy _and_ shy. The exact opposite of Potato.

The two (or three, really) stood awkwardly in the room, Hawke reluctant to leave and Anders (possibly) reluctant to see him go. Fortunately, Hawke was the first one to break the silence.

“Are you free this friday?” Hawke asked, not looking at Anders, as he reached out to Fluffybuns. She sniffed at his fingers, testing him, then leaned up to be petted. He heard a small laugh come from Anders (who was now remarkably close).

“Hawke.”

“?”

“It _is_ friday.” Shit it was, wasn’t it.

“Later today then?” Hawke finally looked up at Anders, who yes, _did_ have a nice smile. A very nice one. Thank the _Maker_ he’d taken his Ritalin or he would’ve blurted that out loud too. 

Anders’ smile spread even wider. “8pm? i’ll text you my address.”

“Personal texts from work? How _naughty,_ Mr. Andersson.” That sounded smoother in his head. Anders seemed to like it however.

“Please,” Anders added, picking up Fluffybuns and putting her in Hawke’s arms, “call me Anders.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anders is a real Swedish name (it means Andrew), and "Anders Andersson" sounds too ridiculous to pass up. Also I headcanon Purple Hawke as ADHD because Why Not. [This](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CaXilSaVAAAlkip.jpg:large) is what Warden-Commander Fluffybuns the Third looks like. Lastly: I have no idea how much a stay at a vet for 2 days would actually cost for a cat so I...guessed.


End file.
